


Cheek Rivet

by Missy



Category: Burn Notice
Genre: Drugged Sex, F/M, Handcuffs, Masturbation, Sex for Favors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 08:58:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1422289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fi's been shot up with adrenaline, and Sam's the only one around to help her take the edge off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cheek Rivet

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Porn Battle, prompt: Burn Notice, Fiona Glenanne/Sam Axe, handcuffs, drugs

“This is NOT how I planned to spend my Saturday, Sam!” Fiona twisted her torso between the prison of Sam’s knees, wildly clawing toward her pinned wrist and the handcuffs that held her there, but it was no use – she couldn’t reach the lock and engineer her own escape.

Fiona’s shrill, biting tone scored Sam’s ears, but he was busy working the hinges of the cuffs. He’d long ago given up on the lock – it was double-enforced titanium, they’d need nitro to freeze it or the right key to force it – and he’d answered Fi’s distress call with neither. “They’re not gonna budge.” Their client was a traitor and a greedy addict who had ransacked the room and stolen the cash Fi had brought as part of the drop off plan, but they weren’t a dummy. Sam gently examined the redhead’s wrist one more time and winced when he noticed a tiny, purple pinprick on the joint. “Crap.” Fiona’s struggles grew violent, and Sam tried to clutch her still between his knees. “Woah, easy, Tinkerbelle!” Her knee came up and caught Sam in the balls, and he hunched against the headboard, sucking in his breath. “Mike’s on the way,” he ground out. “How’re you feeling?”

He looked down and met two flashing eyes and a sneer. “When I get off of this bed I’m going to…”

“Okay, so you’re feeling pissed-off,” Sam guessed. He worriedly rubbed at the pinprick and she moaned. “What the hell did they shoot you up with?”

“I don’t remember,” she growled, and Sam released her wrist. “They said it would put me out, but it didn’t.” Her eyes brightened. “But I left them a souvenir to remember me by.” 

“Bruises or bite marks?” 

She gave him a grin. “I sliced an arm with a dagger, before they took it from me.” She glared. “I’m getting it before this is over.”

“Knives?!” Sam’s brow bobbled upward. “That’s pretty not-Fi-like.”

“A girl uses what she has.” She rubbed her flushed cheek against the pillow. “It’s so bloody hot. What did you do?”

“That would be the drugs kicking in,” Sam observed. Fiona moaned and started twisting under him again. “Uh, Fi…I’m not doing anything to you right now. See? No touching.”

“It’s not that,” she grunted, her wriggling taking on a fresh purpose, centering in her hips, her thighs. Sam leaned back and took a good look at her.

“Great, they dosed you.”

“WHY would they dose me?” Fiona moaned. 

“They probably didn’t mean to,” he observed, again daring to look down into Fi’s eyes. “Yeah, your pupils are blown. 

And with that confirmation curses flew from Fiona’s lips. Sam climbed down, off the bed, and pulled an overturned desk chair upright before making himself comfortable. No way did he want to be near Fiona when she was in this sort of mood. 

He shook through the trash and spotted the syringe – leaving it where it lay, he tried to judge the substance. “Yeah, whatever they put in that syringe was an upper, not a downer. And if I had to guess just by looking at you, I’d say it was an aphro.” 

Fiona started cursing again, earning a sigh from her friend. “We’re going to have to take care of this.” That made her stop talking entirely and gave him a wide-eyed stare, looking for all the world like a trapped kitten. “Unless you wanna wait for Mikey. Uh, if you need to…I can just make myself scarce.”

“What are you…suggesting?” she licked her lips and groaned again. “Will you let me punch you?”

“Noo, no punching.” A defensive hand came up in protection. “I’ll….” He waited for her to fill in the blanks, but she deliberately arched her eyebrow and jerked against the cuffs holding her in place. 

She frowned at him. “….Help you out?” he offered, staring at her forehead.

His uncharacteristic pausing and hesitation had only gotten Fiona’s dander up. Sam made no moves, until the words were pressed out from between her lips. “No kissing. And keep your eyes on the wall.”

“C’mon Fi. I’m a great kisser. The _best_ kisser.”

“No kissing, and if you tell Michael...”

“All right. I’ll cool you off.” His eyebrows rose as his hand slid between her thighs.

Fiona’s muscles grew taut, but she made no gesture, no approving or disinclining. Sam shrugged, unbuttoned her jeans and slid his hand down them.

To his amazement, she wasn’t smuggling a bear trap in her panties.

There was nothing beneath his palm but warmth and a sweet, light wetness. He put the moves on her, his patented Sam moves; circular stroking against the top of her mound and fingers running down the. Fiona bucks, cruses, but lies still – lets him do what she needs him to do.

The motion continues. Sam sweats, woefully unable to detach himself from the current of passion running through Fiona. Were he with some other woman, some beautiful, rich widow he was swindling, Sam would have kissed her, stroked her nipples, eaten her slit out. But he is as imprisoned by her limits as she was her bounds.

Finally, he rests a hand upon her breast, cupping it through a layer of cotton and satin. Her nipple impudently poked at his palm, and Sam gives it a quick pinch; of course her body was in constant rebellion against him – he honestly can’t blame her for feeling out of sorts.

The tempo of her breathing intensified as Sam works her erogenous zones, his eyes fixed on a large white stain marring the wallpaper, ignoring her shudders, the gasping. He pinched her clit between the wall of her panties and his thumb, just to help speed her along.

 

The sensation rammed through Fiona’s reserve, crunched her nerves into a hard knot and made her kick against the nothingness. Sam rubbed until she shuddered and groaned, and collapsed her into a sweaty heap in two seconds.

Sam was a statue, the heel of his palm pressed hard against her mons, too hard to contemplate walking. Then he yanked his hand away and sat back, slicking back his sweaty hair.

“Sam?" He met her eyes as she sat up, the handcuffs dangling loosely from her wrist.

“How did you…?”

She shrugged. “They just…gave.” She pecked his cheek and zipped her jeans. “Once Michael comes we’ll leave. Ahh, I need a wee. Do you have to…?”

“Nope. John’s all yours.” Fi almost skipped off to use the bathroom, leaving Sam alone with the scent of her, the memory of her. 

It took him two seconds to haul out his cock and finish himself off in a wad of Kleenex. By the time she emerged and curled back up onto the bed with a yawn, he almost looked like a decent man with actual integrity who wasn’t in the middle of contemplating sleeping with his best friend’s girl.

By the time Michael arrived with the CO2, she was sleeping like an angel.

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfiction uses characters from **Burn Notice** , all of whom are the property of the **USA Network**. No money was gained from the writing of this fanfiction and all are used under the strictures of of the Berne Convention.


End file.
